‘Isn’t he adorable, Morwen?’ Jane Askhew said softly. ‘We’re so lucky to have such a handsome grandson.’
Morwen gave a half-smile. It was undoubtedly the offer of friendship, but then, Jane came from a more genteel family than a clayworker’s daughter, and found such platitudes easy.
‘He could hardly be otherwise,’ she replied, annoyed at her own thoughts, ‘with two such handsome parents.’
Tom Askhew’s nasal northern voice broke into the women’s admiration of the baby.
‘Aye, well, he’s got a good solid background to live up to, I daresay. On the one side there’s the clay doings of his father’s family, and on t’other side there’s the brains of the newspaper business.’
Morwen refused to take the bait, and neither did Walter, even if Tom made it obvious which business he considered superior. He’d made it so obvious over the years, it hardly counted for anything now.
‘It’s time we went, Tom, and let Morwen have her time with the baby,’ Jane said at once, and her very understanding of her husband’s sneers was enough to irk Morwen. But then, everything about Jane had always irked her, and probably always would.
She watched as Jane bent to kiss her daughter, and the old elegance hadn’t deserted her one-time rival, even in her early forties. She had been a fair-haired beauty as a young girl, and she was a fair-haired beauty now. While Tom Askhew had become grossly fat, and more pig-like than ever.
Morwen wondered how the fastidious Jane could bear to have him near her, let alone paw her with those great fat fingers, and lust for her with that heavily asthmatic breathing. She felt her eyes glaze, wishing such thoughts didn’t spring so imaginatively to her mind.
They revolted her one minute, and in the next they made her want to burst out laughing at the incongruous thought of Tom Askhew bouncing up and down on Miss ‘Finelady’ Jane and squeezing all the breath out of that so genteel body…
‘You’ve gone all soft-eyed, Morwen,’ Jane was saying gently now. ‘Babies have that effect on a woman, don’t they?’
‘Yes,’ Morwen said, in an oddly choked voice, but it wasn’t young Theo who was causing her to squirm with thoughts far too embarrassing to acknowledge. She bent to look into his wise young-old face, and let the Askhews make their private goodbyes.
* * *
Freddie and Venetia were going to Falmouth to meet Matt and his family, and bringing them to New World for the first family get-together. Hal and Bess had driven over during the afternoon, and they were all in a flurry of excitement by the time the carriage drew up outside the house.
The children were too excited to wait inside, especially Bradley. Though his eagerness was more for his beloved Uncle Freddie and Aunt Venetia, rather than these strangers he didn’t know.
Even the charm of their distant land had paled for him, now that Freddie’s departure to Ireland was coming ever nearer. By now, Ran had declared that rebelling over it had turned an obnoxious child into a monster. It was something that had to be dealt with, and soon. But not today. Not on this day when Matt was coming home.
She followed the children out into the garden, her heart pounding. She had been devastated when Matt had gone to America all those years ago, with Ben’s cousin, the hated Jude Pascoe. The two of them, in some disgrace over a suspected crime nobody could prove… and Morwen being the only person to know of the greater crime Jude Pascoe had committed – that of raping her friend and causing Celia to drown herself rather than face the shame Jude had brought on her. It had been a terrible burden for both girls to bear…
She shook herself, seeing the tall figure of her brother emerge from the carriage. So tall and so elegant, in his fine clothes, and still with those charming blue eyes of the dreamer she always associated with Matt. But older… with a shock she saw the creased lines in the Californian suntan, and the receding hairline… and then she saw nothing but the gladness with which he held out his arms to her, and she fell into them with a little cry of joy.
The rest of the family came out of the house, and hugs and tears and laughter mingled in fair measure. Hal and Bess hugged their boy, and they hugged Louisa too, making her just as welcome. And Cresswell…
He was the last to emerge from the carriage, and Morwen felt her heart leap as she saw him.
‘Dear Lord, Matt,’ she breathed. ‘But that’s a handsome boy you’ve got there, and no mistake.’
‘Does he remind you of someone, honey?’ he said, in the American accent that sat so naturally on him now.
She frowned, but no, Cresswell didn’t honestly remind her of any one person. He was a mixture of them all – of Matt, and Sam, and Freddie and Jack… but above all, he was a true Tremayne, from the thick black hair and vivid blue eyes, to the proud set of his shoulders.
To her astonishment, he came straight to her, put his arms around her and kissed her. The last time he’d been here, she had shamefully hated him. But as she had so rightly said to Albert and Primmy, Cresswell had gone away a boy, and here was a man.
‘I’ve so longed to see you again, Aunt Morwen,’ he said, with all the aplomb of the American college graduate.
‘Have you?’ she said in some surprise.
‘Oh yes. We have many things to talk about, and above all I intend to make my peace with your family for what I did to them. It was totally unintentional, but it still weighs heavily on my conscience.’
Dear God, but he had his father’s artless charm, she thought, and the gift of conversing without embarrassment that was so lacking in many of his age. And she forgave him everything in an instant. She hugged his arm.
‘The children are dying to see you, Cresswell—’ she began as they all went indoors, at which he laughed.
‘I doubt that, but I hope to make my peace with them. And it’s Cress, by the way.’
The younger children were in awe of him, but Matt and Louisa were soon at home, especially with Ran, since they spoke virtually the same language now.
There were four Americans here, Morwen reminded herself, not just three. Her brother had become completely colonized, as the more sneering of acquaintances would say. But it suited him. He’d flourished and grown rich in his adopted land, and he’d done it by his own efforts, and no Cornishman would begrudge him that.
When all the gifts they’d brought had been distributed and the hubbub of noise had died down a little, the children were sent upstairs for their tea to give the rest of them a bit of peace. And while the various plans were suggested and accepted, it was noticeable to Morwen that her parents were content to take a back seat and simply listen, preferring to move a little apart from these energetic folk.
‘Justin’s birthday party is taking place at Killigrew House, courtesy of Hal and Bess,’ Ran said, smiling. ‘And since it’s Cress’s birthday soon too, we’ll be making it a joint celebration.’
‘Sounds good to me,’ Matt said.
‘It sounds just wonderful, and you people are all so generous,’ Louisa murmured.
‘We want to give Cress a portrait of himself for his birthday,’ Morwen said, before she let herself think there was anything condescending in Louisa’s words. ‘Albert’s a very fine artist now, with exhibitions in Truro twice a year, and the best people going to his studio. He’s agreed to do the portrait for Mammie and me, if you’ll sit for him, Cress.’
She held her breath. The boy could refuse, since there had been so much bitterness between them. But the man smiled and said he’d be glad to do so.
‘And we’ve already told Matt about our proposition for moving into Hocking Hall,’ Freddie put in. ‘He thinks ’tis a good idea, and has agreed to it.’
‘But we’ll want to see plenty of you all before Louisa and Cress go off to Europe, and after their trip too,’ Matt said quickly. ‘The plan now is that they’ll be gone a month, and spend the rest of the time back here. And I shall want to go up to Killigrew Clay, of course, but there’ll be plenty of time for that.’
Even so, Morwen could see the
tiny sense of relief on Louisa’s face that they didn’t have to stay in the house of these quaint clayfolk who were Matt’s parents, nor even here with her cousin Ran and his brood of children. But it was Cress who surprised her the most.
‘I’ve told Mom and Dad that I intend to explore the neighbourhood by myself, and Uncle Freddie’s putting a horse at my disposal, so I won’t be a bother to anyone,’ he said enthusiastically. ‘I especially want to re-acquaint myself with all my cousins before we leave for Europe, and it will be fun to call on them informally.’
It wasn’t the English way, but Americans were obviously different. Morwen found herself warming to the unconventional, refreshing attitude of this handsome young man, and gave him her full approval.
There was so much talking to be done that it was late in the evening by the time the American family finally left for Hocking Hall with their hosts. Hal and Bess had left much earlier, and it had occurred to Morwen that her Mammie and Daddy were a little intimidated by the impressive businessman Matt had become, and by his self-confident family. But they were still family, for all that, and she refused to be overawed by them.
Justin had come home before they left, and after an initial wariness had become surprisingly agreeable towards Cresswell. He found him an interesting, highly intelligent character, with the ability to converse about many things other than the endless talk about china clay.
Morwen was mightily relieved to see that at least one of her older brood had been able to put the ghosts of the past squarely where they belonged.
Chapter Ten
Cress Tremayne was not a young man to waste time. He had a quick and eager mind, and once this birthday trip to Europe was over, he’d be shortly entering into a law firm in Sacramento with a first-class honours degree from his college.
With their mutual legal interests, he and his cousin Justin had discovered they had much in common. It was good to know it, but he still had to make his peace with the others he’d upset so much in the past.
Cress had never forgotten the shock and pain he’d brought to their young lives, when he’d so innocently blurted out the truth of their parentage and background. He thought he’d have been able to put it behind him. But the older he got, the more the thought of it had weighed on his mind. And that troubled him.
He wanted to see them all, and to put the record straight. And his first call was going to be at Albert’s studio in Truro, where he hoped to see Albert and Primmy at the same time. They were the most involved, after all, along with Walter.
His expensive riding boots rang on the cobbles as he tethered his horse to the hitching post outside the studio alongside the Truro River. The smells of the river were neither unpleasant nor unknown to him, for although their huge Californian mansion and estate was in the heart of the gold country, his expensive college had overlooked the wide river where his father’s gold shipments were carried to all corners of the globe.
There were some aspects of his own background, and that of these clayfolk, that were not so very different, he thought.
And he hoped to God he wasn’t being snobbish in thinking it, for it was the last thing he intended.
He rang the bell at the studio, and the door was opened by a young woman with long, carelessly combed black hair, and a fragile air about her that was almost otherworldly. Her eyes were very blue in her exquisitely beautiful face, despite the dark shadows beneath them. She was dressed in a loose bronze coloured gown that scorned the fashions of the day. There were brightly coloured ribbons braided around her waist and around her throat, and on her face, tiny star shapes glittered at the sides of those glorious eyes.
‘Good morning, Ma’am,’ Cress said, stunned by this vision. ‘Is it possible to see Mr Albert Tremayne? I’m afraid I don’t have an appointment.’
Primmy’s face filled with heat. She knew him immediately. She hadn’t seen him in ten years, and he wasn’t remotely like the idiot who had gone away, but his voice and his looks gave him away. He obviously didn’t recognize her, and she knew it wasn’t only the fact that she had grown into a woman that prevented that recognition. In her casual mode of dress, she knew she looked nothing like the daughter of a prosperous businessman, and the look was quite deliberate.
She struggled with the idea of turning the caller away and saying that Albie was unavailable, but what was the point? They were obliged to meet very soon at Justin’s party, and they might as well get it over with. But she wasn’t yet prepared to say who she was.
‘I’m not sure if Mr Tremayne’s available,’ she murmured instead. ‘I’ll have to see if he’s free. Will you please come inside?’
‘Thank you,’ Cress said with a smile. ‘I apologize if it’s an inconvenience, but perhaps you would tell him I’ve come on a personal matter.’
He removed his hat and followed the girl inside. She had a trim, slender shape, and she walked with a natural and easy grace that reminded him of his Aunt Morwen. So did that glorious hair, and those fabulous eyes…
Cress caught his breath, knowing what he should have known straight away.
‘Primmy,’ he said softly. ‘It is you, isn’t it?’
She stopped walking towards the door leading to the inner sanctum, and stood quite still for a moment before she slowly turned around. Cress had the feeling she would much rather have got through that door before she had to face him again. When she did so, she looked as if she was about to say something, and then he saw her eyelids flicker, and she paused while she took in his appearance properly.
‘Yes,’ she said at last, in a wobbly voice. ‘And I know who you are.’
Cress didn’t waste words. ‘You know who I was, Primmy. But I very much hope you’ll want to know me as I am.’
She wasn’t used to this sort of talk. It was too frank, too embarrassing, too colonial, and too soon.
‘I’ll go and see if Albie’s free,’ she said quickly, and fled.
Albert looked up quickly from cleaning his brushes as his sister slammed the door shut behind her and leaned with her back against it.
‘What’s wrong?’ he said at once.
As always, his thoughts went to what he thought of obliquely as her ‘trouble’. He’d finally felt obliged to banish their old friends from the place now, and they were openly resentful. At the back of Albert’s mind was always the fear that they’d betray what had been going on here for some months, either to the wretched newspaper or the constables.
Primmy moved forward quickly, to put her arms around him. She knew his anxiety was for her, but this time it wasn’t her trouble. Besides, she was over it. She knew she was. It had been madness, but it was over… and she hadn’t been so sucked into its depths as Albie had feared.
‘For God’s sake, Primmy, who was at the door?’ Albert said urgently, as she seemed to be struck dumb.
‘It’s him,’ she whispered. ‘Uncle Matt’s son. He wants to see you.’
‘Cresswell, you mean? That’s his name, isn’t it?’
She hadn’t even been able to say it. All the hurt had come flooding back, and she didn’t want anything to do with Cresswell Tremayne. Yet she knew that the healing process and the exorcism could only truly begin by facing up to a problem. She had already proved that.
‘Yes.’
‘He’s got a damn nerve, coming here unannounced. All right, I’ll see him, Primmy, but I don’t have to be sociable. You stay here and I’ll soon get rid of him.’
‘No.’ She spoke slowly. ‘Albie, I admit it was a shock when I realized who he was, but I think we do have to be reasonably sociable. He’s our cousin, and besides, you’ve already agreed to do his portrait. He’ll have to sit for you. And I think – well, I think it’s best if we hear him out, for Mother’s sake.’
She avoided his eyes, hardly knowing why she was defending the American cousin. But the visitor in the reception room wasn’t the little snot who had hurt her so. This was a handsome, well-adjusted young man, and the flamboyant Primmy Tremayne, who scorned all th
e things that other fond mamas wanted their daughters to be, found herself wishing she was wearing one of the pretty gowns her mother kept buying her, and which were mostly unused, except when she was obliged to show a more conventional façade for her public performances.
She felt Albert’s arms tighten around her. She was once so fragile he’d been afraid she would break if he acted this way, but in the last days the colour had returned to her cheeks, and he began to believe the nightmare was truly over.
‘If that’s what you want, then we’ll hear him out,’ he said, but still somewhat suspicious of this unexpected appearance of their foreign cousin. ‘I’ll close the studio for an hour or so, since there are no appointments until this afternoon.’
‘Invite him up to the sitting room, and I’ll make some tea while we talk,’ Primmy said.
Mentally, she stood back from herself, feeling a little weird, and as if she was in danger of admitting there could be another side to Primmy Killigrew. It was almost as if there were two people inside her slender body, and the one she didn’t know was a vibrant, chaperoned young lady, in the process of inviting a handsome young man to take tea with her and her brother.
The very thought of it shocked her. It was extraordinary that she could even think such a thing! Cresswell Tremayne was nothing to her except through circumstance. And never likely to be.
* * *
By the time Cress left the studio it was midway through the afternoon, and Albert’s next appointment was imminent. After the first crackling awkwardness between them, the American’s frankness and his freely-given apology for the errors of the past, had gradually won them over completely.
When Albert and Primmy were on their own again, they agreed that it was amazing how compatible they had turned out to be. Albie even unbent enough to say that Cress was a Cornishman at heart, if ever he saw one, and nobody could pay him any greater compliment. And Primmy had fallen in love.
While her brother was busy with his next client downstairs in the studio, Primmy went dreamily to her wall closet, fingering the silk gowns her mother had provided so hopefully, and which she rarely saw her daughter wearing. Primmy had had no thoughts of wearing anything other than her usual attire to Justin’s party in three days’ time, but now, there would be a certain somebody there for whom she wanted to look beautiful. Someone whose blue eyes matched her own, and who spoke in a particularly attractive accent, and who was so intelligent that she knew she had better look to her laurels to keep up with him.
Family Shadows Page 13